


Come into my arms (I will give you shelter there)

by BardicRaven



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Episode: s03e18 Public Enemy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna Smoak is a wise woman, and kind. She sees an angry, hurting man and decides to help.</p><p>The fact that he's standing between her daughter and the man she loves... is an added incentive for her to succeed.</p><p> O>>>-----------> </p><p>Felicity Smoak is a smart woman, and loyal. Loyal to her ideals. Loyal to her friends.</p><p>She finally realizes the man she loves is not the man she expected it to be, but is it too late for the truth to matter?</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>Update - 09-06-15 - ~1700words</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oliver Queen has a Good Heart

Donna Smoak froze in horror as she watched the television screen, an update to the earlier story she'd seen, but not really registered before, far too concerned about her daughter to notice the particulars. This was why she never watched the news. What wasn't outright scary was depressing.

Currently, it was both.

Plastered all over the screen was that nice man, Lance was it?. He wasn't being nice now, his face contorted with rage as he railed against the vigilante, the man that, for whatever else his crimes might be, had a good heart. She knew he did, for all the hatred the police captain was currently spewing at him. For all the reasons she knew she should agree with the man vowing to bring the Arrow to justice, she knew that Oliver Queen had a good heart.

Why? How did she know this thing that no-one else seemed to know?

Because she knew her daughter, knew that she would never fall for someone who was rotten at his core.

And because she'd seen the way he'd lit up at her daughter's entrance too.

It was quieter, but no less real for all that.

Her lips thinned, firmed. She was not about to let anyone get in-between her daughter and the man who had finally captured her heart. The man who might just be the one worthy of her Felicity, the one who would marry her daughter and help make her the grandmother she'd been longing to be.

She wasn't sure how yet, but she was going to make sure her daughter got the man of her dreams. Her dreams had gone up in smoke, no pun intended, but that didn't mean her daughter's had to as well.

Lance was a man like any other. If there was one thing Donna Smoak knew in this world, it was men. Surely she'd be able to come up with something.

She hoped.

>>>\----------->

 _“But I need you to follow me just a little further.”_ If Oliver had left it at that, they might have held, might have listened to his request that they not worry about him, might have trusted him, believed him when he said he'd gone through far worse things.

But he didn't.

There is a common thread among many suicides, that somewhere, there is that warning, that please/plea from a body bent near to breaking.

That desire to live, even in the middle of the desire to die.

Whether that was the cause of it or not, the fact remains that he continued, and with his words, made their actions inevitable. Their love for him, their loyalty to him, to his crusade, made their own, made it impossible for them not to act.

His eyes had dropped, unable to meet their gaze any longer. _“Until it's over.”_ Said softly to himself with a weariness and resignation that left them looking at one another, concerned.

They'd lost Oliver once. They weren't about to do it again.

On that, they were agreed.

Out of respect for Laurel's position, and a desperate need to move before Oliver did anything even more foolish, they left, with a whispered message to Laurel to make sure Oliver was never left alone.

They reconvened back at the Foundry, Laurel joining them as soon as she could.

“He's okay. I made sure that an officer is with him at all times,” she said into the concern and inquiry facing her.

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Why did you make that deal?” Felicity's voice rang out in the sudden silence.

Laurel looked away, looked back. “I did it, because if I hadn't, he just would have found someone else who would. And I would have lost any chance to help him.” She challenged Felicity with her eyes. “Despite our differences, I love him too. And I would never willingly do anything to hurt him.”

Felicity nodded, once, doing a passable imitation of Oliver if she'd been in a position to appreciate it.

“All right. So what are we going to do?”

The plan was made quickly. A desperate plan, with no guarantee of working, but it was better than nothing.

At least they'd be able to say they'd tried.

The one thing they all agreed on was that to stand around and do nothing was unacceptable, no matter what Oliver thought he wanted.

What he thought he'd done.

What Oliver Queen had done was show all of them what they could truly be. A gang-banger could be a leader. An I.T. girl could be quick and clever and help save the world. A war-weary veteran could be a soldier fighting the good fight, one where he made a difference he could be proud of. A frustrated assistant D.A. could be a force for justice, both inside and outside the courtroom.

And a cop could be a believer.

Oliver Queen had inspired them all. Now it was time for them to do the same in return.

>>>\----------->

## Roy

It was a simple decision, really. He was the other archer, the only one who stood even a chance of pulling this off. He was also the one with an awareness of what awaited him, and a good idea of what he'd need to do, to be, to survive.

And... at the end of the day, it was a way to pay back the debt. Oliver Queen had saved him, as simple as that.

Roy knew very well that accidents happened in prison. And as angry as Lance was with Oliver, the probability of that accident became nearly a certainty.

And... as much as Oliver wanted to die, he'd let it happen.

That was the other thing. He'd been there. He knew what it was like to have the weight of blood on your hands.

He knew what it was like to want to die.

He knew how easy it would be to give in.

So it was no decision, really. He would take Oliver's place, guard his back as he'd always done. Give him a chance to heal in the circle of people who loved him.

And for himself, he'd make it through. Lance wasn't so angry with him. He'd allow justice to take its course. With a plea and time off for good behavior, it wouldn't be so long.

It was no decision, really.

>>>\----------->

## Felicity

What had he been thinking? She couldn't get her mind off the question, kept worrying it like a starving dog with a bare bone, desperate to find some sustenance, finding nothing, but having nothing else to try, kept trying.

She feared she knew the answer.

Feared it was her fault.

Was angry that it might be her fault.

He shouldn't be so fragile.

He shouldn't need her that much.

She shouldn't have to be the one to save him from himself.

But she was. She had to admit that to herself.

She'd made him a promise.

A promise that she'd broken.

So now... now that she finally knew her heart, knew that, despite whatever she was 'supposed' to want, what she DID want involved ice-blue eyes and arrows in the night, now she had to help make this right.

Roy... she knew what he was going to offer. Knew it even before he said it.

And she'd take him up on his offer, despite her fears.

Because he was right.

Oliver would never make it out of prison alive. If by some miracle his body survived, his heart would be gone forever.

She couldn't bear the thought of that.

So she'd take Roy up on his offer and pray.

Pray that the gamble would work.

Pray that she, and they, weren't just exchanging one life for another.

Pray that it would do some good, that Oliver wasn't too far gone to save.

Pray that Lance, somewhere, would remember who he really was, the loyal, kind man sworn to family and to the law. That even if he would no longer support them, that he'd stop this mad vendetta against them.

Pray.

She began the words, the Hebrew coming soft and quick, words spilling out from her lips as a desperate ramble, a plea to God to help save them all.

No matter how small and unworthy they might be.

Please.

Save Oliver.

Save Roy.

Save Lance.

Save me.

Please.

I'll do anything.

Be anything.

Let it not be too late.

For me.

For them.

Please.

>>>\----------->

## Laurel

Laurel was afraid.

Afraid for Oliver.

Afraid for her father.

Afraid for herself.

She was afraid, but she couldn't let that stop her.

Not now.

She'd finally found what she was fighting for.

She couldn't, wouldn't, let it be taken away from her now.

She wasn't in love with Oliver any more – she'd finally realized what he'd been trying to tell her all along, that they were too alike to make a good match.

They both held the darkness within them, too close to the surface to be able to be a support for one another.

They'd only drag each other down when they fell.

Had dragged each other down when they fell.

But just because she was no longer in love with the man did not mean she would willingly see him die.

Especially not at the hands of her father.

She was afraid of her father, in a way she had never been before, not even in the middle of his darkest drunken rages.

This... this went so far beyond that. She was afraid of what he'd do to Oliver given the chance, and what that would do to him, when he realized what he'd done, far too late.

So there was no decision to be made, really. Roy could come the closest of them all to providing an acceptable alternative target for her father's fury, while being different enough to avoid the worst of it.

She admired Roy's willingness to sacrifice himself for Oliver.

The young man had come so far since he'd met Oliver. If she hadn't seen it for herself, she never would have believed it.

Coming through her office, her courtrooms, were plenty of proof that young men like him didn't change, no matter what opportunities they were given.

But Roy had. He'd defied the odds and won.

She only hoped he wouldn't lose now.

>>>\----------->

## Diggle

He didn't know what to do.

It was as simple as that.

He didn't know what to do.

He considered going to Waller, beg her to intervene.

He dismissed the idea. Oliver wouldn't want that, and Diggle wasn't so sure he'd be doing him any favors by putting him back into her clutches.

She damned near killed him once.

Diggle wouldn't give her the chance to do it again.

So, what did that leave them?

Roy's mad plan seemed the best of the non-existent options.

Leaving Oliver alone wasn't an option he was willing to consider.

He'd heard that tone from far too many men in Afghanistan.

Right before they died.

By their hand, or the enemy's, it was really the same at that point.

And the fact that Lance was clearly not operating from a place of dispassionate action didn't help.

He'd seen men like that too, and far too often, the men who were the targets of their rage ended up dead, one way or another.

He wouldn't leave Oliver in such a situation. Not without someone to guard his back.

He'd failed him before, for all that he'd simply followed orders.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

>>>\----------->

## Lance

He'd made a Lance a believer. That was the thing he couldn't forgive. Despite everything he'd been taught, to believe in, to uphold, Oliver Queen had come and shattered them all with a strange mix of reality and idealism, neither one of which he'd found on the streets.

And a heady brew it was. Everything he'd desired, deep in his heart. That chance to make a difference. That chance to deal real justice, far from the mix of expediency and politics that far too often made up his life.

So it was no wonder he'd fallen under the man's spell.

A mistake he would rectify now.

He'd been wrong. Wrong to put his desires above his oaths.

Wrong to think that one man could know best for all.

Wrong to believe.

Wrong to trust.

He'd trusted Oliver Queen.

Trusted him with his daughters.

Trusted him with his career.

The man had betrayed them all. Left one daughter in a grave, the other facing the end of her career, her life as a free woman, if he could not, she could not, maintain the fiction that she was still only a simple assistant D.A. Left his career in a shambles, his position a joke unless he redeemed it, himself, by bringing the Arrow down.

He'd trusted Oliver Queen once.

He'd never make that mistake again.

But he would make Oliver Queen pay.

Killing was too good for him, and outside the law besides.

But there were ways to make a man long for death, without actually killing him.

He'd had plenty of experience with that.

Long nights spent wishing for the oblivion of a drink, a bottle.

Longer nights spent in one.

But the longest nights had been spent wondering about his daughters – what had happened to Sara, what was happening with Laurel.

Oliver Queen hadn't spared him those nights.

So he wouldn't spare Oliver Queen.

>>>\----------->


	2. People Come to Vegas to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance strikes a bargain with himself... and with Donna Smoak.

O>>>\----------->

Laurel returned to find the precinct in an uproar. Roy had surrendered, been brought into the station. There was all kinds of discussion going on, rumors flying about from desk to desk, about what would be done now.

Would they let Queen go? Or just keep both of them? They had a signed confession, after all. Besides, wasn't there something about another archer? A shorter one, in red?

In the middle of it all, she went to go find Oliver. Found him alone in a cell, sitting there with a blank expression that scared her to her core.

He made no indication that he even saw her. She went to go find her father.

She stormed into his office without bothering to knock. "What the hell, Dad?"

"In this office, it's Captain Lance, even to you, Ms Lance." His voice was colder than she could ever remember hearing it.

"Fine. I'm sorry. Captain Lance." She tried, and failed, to keep the anger out of her voice. "I believe I made a request that the prisoner, Oliver Queen, never be left alone, that I had reason to believe he was in a state where he might do harm to himself."

"I'm sorry, Ms Lance, but I did not have the personnel to comply with that request." There was nothing in his voice except professionalism. Nothing.

Her eyes narrowed. "If any harm comes to him as a result of your inaction, I will see this department, and you personally, up on charges of police brutality and depraved indifference."

"Your concern is noted, Assistant District Attorney. Now how about you get the hell out of my office and let me get some work done?"

"Gladly, Captain Lance."

She managed not to slam the door on her way out, but it was a near thing.

>>>\----------->

She'd never seen her father like this before. She knew Sara's death would hit him hard. That's why she hadn't wanted to tell him in the first place. But he'd never been this uncaring before.

It wasn't the man she knew, either as a cop or as her father.

This madness needed to end.

She only wished she knew how.

O>>>\----------->

Captain Lance looked up at the knock on his door. "Come." he said, not really wanting any visitors right now, but knowing that there were things that needed to be done anyway.

He wasn't expecting the woman who came through the door. A blond. Natural, a part of him noted. Tall and beautiful. Not young, but not old either. Not in the way that all too many people allowed themselves to become.

That he'd allowed himself to become.

She reminded him of someone, tho' he couldn't think of who until she stuck out her hand.

"Donna Smoak." she said as he rose to greet her.

Ah, yes. The apple didn't look as if it had fallen far from the tree, at least in the looks department. Her blond hair was natural and her face was beginning to be lined with care and years, but he didn't need age-progression software to see that this woman was related to Felicity, most likely her mother.

Her handshake was firm, belying the baby-doll looks and clothes that on anyone else would have been about twenty years too young for her.

"Ah, yes. You must be related to Felicity."

"I'm her mother."

"And this is where I'm supposed to tell you that you couldn't possibly be, that you don't look like you're older than her sister."

She shrugged. "If you'd like to."

"What would you like?" Suspicion laced his voice, made it hard.

"For you to release Oliver Queen." Calm and quiet, as if she was asking for nothing more than him to pick up some milk on his way home from the precinct, instead of asking him to release a man with multiple felony counts on his head.

He raised one eyebrow at her presumption.

"Really?" Lance said in a voice that had been known to made street-hardened officers repent of their foolishness.

"Yes." Her guileless wide-eyed gaze did nothing to melt the stoniness of his.

"Now why would I want to do that?" Sarcasm masquerading as fact-finding.

“I suppose because I ask you isn't enough.”

“You've got that right.” The bitter sharpness in his voice surprised him. When had he let himself get that world-weary?

“Why?” Her question jerked him back from his introspection.

Lance stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. Wasn't it obvious why he wouldn't be letting Queen go?

Apparently not, as Donna just continued looking at him expectantly, clearly preparing to wait all night if she had to.

O>>>\----------->

He sighed heavily, trying to decide what to tell her that would convince her to take his word for it and leave him alone with his paperwork, so that he had a chance of leaving some time before midnight, and stop pestering him for things he couldn't do, even if he wanted to.

Which he didn't.

"There's nothing that can be done now, even if I wanted to. His name is all over the city."

Donna looked at him, quirked her head to the side. "But that nice young boy... Roy? I heard it on the news that he'd voluntarily surrendered?"

Lance waved away her both her questions and her opinion of Roy Harper. "He didn't do it. He's guilty of a lot of things, sure, but mostly only falling under that bastard's influence."

"I'd say 'that bastard's influence' helped change him for the better." she suggested gently but firmly.

"How?" he challenged. He wasn't in a mood to hear anyone defending Oliver Queen tonight.

Or ever.

She considered, took a breath, then spoke. "I hear he was a member of a gang first."

"Yeah. Gotta rap sheet as long as my arm - full of petty crap." His tone was dismissive – so what?

"When was the last time he was arrested?"

"Couple years ago." He thought about it. "Two-three years ago. Why?"

"This young man, who'd been visiting your precinct regularly, suddenly stops for years?" She looked at Lance triumphantly. "I'd say that means he had a change of heart."

"All it means, Mrs Smoak, is that he graduated to bigger and better things. Things he was better at hiding."

"Except he wasn't." Lance startled. Donna shrugged. "A mother knows these things. You learn to spot a lie a mile off. You knew who he was long before the other night."

"So what if I did? Doesn't mean it was right, keeping his secret. Keeping that bastard's secrets." Defensive now. Damn he3r. Damn them both – that meddling girl of hers and now the mother too. Would they give him no peace?

"We all have secrets, Quentin." Her voice was sad, thoughtful.

"So it's first names now, is it?" he snapped, refusing to grant her any ground.

"What are you so afraid of?" He froze. "In my line of work, you see a lot of fear, too. People afraid of living. People who've suffered. They come to Vegas to forget, you know. But it doesn't work. All it does is let you hide from your pain. It doesn't make it go away."

Lance spoke through a throat gone suddenly dry. "You're a wise woman, Mrs Smoak."

"Call me Donna."

"So... what do I do?" He couldn't believe the words he was saying, or that, somehow, Donna Smoak had found a way through his defenses with nothing more than the truth.

"Pretend you believe him."

"You want me to let Queen go?" 

"I do."

"Why?" The anger was back in his voice. "Why do you care so much for the son-of-a-bitch?"

"I have my reasons." Ice laced through the words, but hiding something underneath, he could tell.

"What reasons?" Her eyes grew hard at the challenge in his voice. "If you want me to shatter every code I believe in, break every oath I ever took, you need to tell me why."

"Because my daughter loves him."

"And my daughter's dead because of him." He shook his head. "Not good enough."

"Because it doesn't change anything."

He narrowed his eyes at her, listening.

"It doesn't bring your daughter back. It doesn't make your pain go away." She reached out, let her hand fall as he started violently back, banging into his chair, making it slam hard against the wall behind him. "All it does is keep you there."

"All it does is let me do my job."

She shook her head at the venom in his words. "You're right. I'm asking you to break the law. But I've seen a lot of things in Vegas. And you can't tell me that you haven't looked the other way before you met Oliver Queen. You can't tell me that your department hasn't done things because of expediency and necessity before. You can't tell me that and expect me to believe it."

She continued, more softly. "Think about it. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

And she was gone.

*O >>>\----------->

God, he needed a drink.

He'd needed one for days, weeks, even.

Years, if he were honest with himself, and Donna Smoak made him want to be honest with himself, damn her.

Made him want to be honest with her.

He needed a meeting.

He needed a drink.

He needed to hear her voice again.

That last startled him, disturbed him even more than he'd already been, a thing he hadn't thought possible.

He wanted, needed to hear her voice again. Not the icy reserve, no. The other one, the one that was soft and warm.

As he knew she would be.

He shook his head angrily. That was a road he did NOT need to be going down right now. Or ever.

There was such a thing as right and wrong and dammit, he knew the difference.

But...

And there was the rub, of course. She was right. Police departments made choices all the time that were for reasons of expediency, not law.

Deals were struck all the time. With, he forced himself to admit, people who'd done far worse things than Oliver Queen.

He picked up the phone. Maybe the fact that he picked up the phone instead of a bottle would mean something to her.

He knew it meant something to him.

What, he wasn't quite sure.

He only knew he felt lighter than he had in years.

O>>>\----------->

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ##### In seeing what I had available to post, I finally realized how to fill one of the gaps between what I had written and the end of this chapter.
> 
> ##### So here you go - a little Arrow-fic to help us slide into S4.
> 
> ##### As ever, if you'd like to see updates to this please leave a comment and/or a kudo and generally let me know you're reading and enjoying. They five-reallys help me keep my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard
> 
> ##### -B!

**Author's Note:**

> ##### I, too, 'ship Smoakin' Lance, and between Donna Smoak's return and Quentin Lance's going off the deep end in S3e18 "Public Enemy", it seemed time.
> 
> ##### As ever, if you like what you read, and you'd like to see more of it and sooner, please and thank you leave a comment, a kudo, anything that lets me know you're out there, reading and enjoying.
> 
> ##### -B!


End file.
